The Problem with Pobbles
by Wendy Parkinson
Summary: SG-1 return with a pet


The Problem with Pobbles  
  
(response to Challenge #426 on Heliopolis)  
  
"Are you sure it's harmless?" General George Hammond looked doubtful. He'd come across 'safe' and 'benign' too many times not to expect it come back and bite him in the ass. What on earth had made SG-1 ignore regulations and return from P3X211 with one of its indigenous lifeforms?   
  
"Absolutely sir," said Jonas, stroking the small creature nestling in his hand. It emitted a small squeak and wriggled. The other three members of SG-1 looked on indulgently.  
  
The General peered at it again. It was about the size of a tennis ball, brown, furry and had no discernable features… well, none that he could see anyway. He wasn't even sure which end was the front and which was the back. It certainly looked harmless, but considering some of the weird stuff he'd seen over the last few years that didn't count for much. He frowned, trying to get the facts straight in his mind. "So you were given this…"  
  
"Pobble," offered Major Samantha Carter, as she reached across and stroked it. It squeaked again, a little louder this time. "Cute, isn't he?"  
  
The General raised his eyebrows. "You were given this pobble as a gift by the high priestess?"  
  
"It was a kind of peace offering," said the Colonel. "They wanted to trade their medical knowledge for weapons and, of course, we refused. She said the gift was to show there were no hard feelings."  
  
"She also said it was a symbol of great fertility and would change our lives forever," said Sam.  
  
"A fertility symbol?" This was getting stranger by the minute.  
  
"You know, sir, I said exactly the same thing. I mean, it doesn't look like your conventional fertility symbol… not phallic enough." Jack grinned at the General, then when he realised Hammond was waiting for him to continue, said, "We never really got to the bottom of that, sir. The priestess went kind of cryptic on us… and you know how I hate 'cryptic'."  
  
Hammond nodded. O'Neill's descriptions of Oma Desala and her philosophical ramblings had to be heard to be believed. Yes, the Colonel definitely had an aversion to 'cryptic'. He looked at the pobble again. "So what are we going to do with it?" he asked.  
  
"Doctor Fraiser has a cage in the infirmary she says we can use," offered Jonas. "Would you like to hold it, sir?" He held the pobble out to the General. "Be careful, sir, he's heavier than you'd expect."  
  
Making a mental note to ask his chief medical officer why she kept animal cages in her infirmary, Hammond took the small furry creature in his hands. It felt rather like his granddaughter's guinea pig: soft, warm, furry, and, as Jonas had said, far heavier than it ought to be. He stroked it absent-mindedly. "What does it eat?"  
  
"We are assured it will eat anything," said Teal'c solemnly.  
  
"Anything?" The General looked worried. "That's kind of vague. Is it a vegetarian or a meat-eater?"  
  
Sam shrugged. "We were told it would eat anything, sir."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Jack. "They were quite adamant about that… it will eat anything."  
  
Hammond lifted the pobble up to eye level and studied it more closely. He still couldn't make out any features. "Where's its mouth?" he asked curiously.  
  
"It must be under the fur somewhere, sir," said Jonas. "I'm sure it'll become obvious when we give it something to eat."  
  
The General handed the pobble back to Jonas. "All right, it can stay on base for now, but I want Doctor Frasier to run the standard tests on it to check it's not carrying any infections."  
  
The Kelownan grinned. "Thanks, General. You won't regret this!"  
  
Hammond shook his head as he watched SG-1 leave his office. He wasn't sure why but he had a nasty feeling he *was* going to regret it…  
  
=====  
  
"We've got to give it a name," said Jack.  
  
Sam Carter looked at him doubtfully. "It isn't really a pet, sir."  
  
"Then what is it?"  
  
She had to admit he had a point. She shrugged.  
  
Taking this as agreement, O'Neill said, "So what are we going to call it?" He peered in the cage at the immobile pobble huddled in the corner, then looked up at Carter and Teal'c who looked at each other in bewilderment. "And I sure hope Jonas gets back with some food for it soon. The little guy looks hungry."  
  
"Sir, how on earth can you tell? You can't even see its mouth."  
  
Jack frowned and changed the subject. "So… names?"  
  
"We do not know if it is male or female, O'Neill," pointed out Teal'c.  
  
"Pick something neutral… like Spot or Patch," suggested the Colonel.  
  
The Jaffa looked puzzled. "But it is of uniform colouration, O'Neill."  
  
"They were only examples." He frowned, deep in concentration. "How about Gismo?"  
  
"Like in Gremlins, sir?" asked Sam.  
  
Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "Gremlins?"  
  
"It was a cool movie about a cute furry creature, T. We'll hire it sometime."  
  
The Jaffa nodded. "Then that appears to be a suitable name, O'Neill."  
  
Sam sighed to herself and muttered under her breath, "Just don't feed him after midnight or let him get wet…"  
  
Their conversation was interrupted by Jonas entering the room carrying a loaded tray. He held it out and smiled broadly. "The chef was real excited when he found out we'd brought an alien pet back with us. He insisted I took a sample of everything he had so we could find out what it really likes to eat. What shall we try it with first?"  
  
Sam looked more closely at the tray. The chef had certainly applied himself with enthusiasm if not a great deal of common sense; it contained everything from raw vegetables to meat loaf to apple pie… and she really didn't think any animal would eat blue jello. "Why don't we try it with some lettuce first?" she suggested.  
  
There were three nods of assent. Jonas selected a lettuce leaf and carefully pushed it through the bars of the cage. Nothing happened for a moment. Sam was just about to say that it must be a carnivore when there was a sudden whooshing noise from the cage and the lettuce leaf had gone.  
  
"What the…?" exclaimed Jack. "How did it do that? I never saw it move. Did any of you guys see it move?" He looked round at the rest of SG-1.  
  
They all shook their heads. Sam certainly hadn't seen it move. "Give it another one, and we'll watch more closely this time," she suggested.  
  
Jonas nodded and pushed another lettuce leaf into the cage. All four bent down towards the cage and stared at the pobble. Then they all jumped back as there was another whooshing noise, and, yet again, no lettuce leaf.   
  
"Well, I still didn't see anything. Perhaps if we try something bigger… something harder for it to chew? We need to slow the little critter down a touch," said Jack, scratching his head.  
  
Jonas studied the tray and picked up a banana. He looked at it longingly as he peeled it, then lifted the door of the cage and quickly dropped it in. Sam shook her head. It would never eat that… it was almost as big as the pobble. There was another whooshing noise, a little more prolonged this time, and sure enough, the banana had gone. Sam blinked. "I think I saw… something… that time."  
  
"A furry blur?" suggested O'Neill.  
  
"Yeah." 'A furry blur' just about covered it. Sam peered at the pobble. It moved a little, as if it was getting more comfortable, then let out a gentle burp. Serves you right for bolting your food, she thought to herself.  
  
Jack looked at the tray. "Try the meat loaf. No-one can eat that quickly and live to tell the tale."  
  
Jonas nodded and picked up the slice of meatloaf between finger and thumb. He lifted the door and dropped it into the cage. Nothing happened.  
  
Sam said, "Perhaps it's a herbivore…"  
  
"It is moving," said Teal'c.  
  
Sam looked more closely at the cage and realised the Jaffa was right. The pobble was wriggling and shaking, its fur almost rippling as it moved. She couldn't tell what it was doing; it certainly didn't seem interested in the meatloaf… but who was? Suddenly there were four small pops and four tiny fur balls about the size of a pea appeared in the cage next to the pobble which let out a tiny sigh and stopped moving. "I think it's a girl pobble," she said quietly.  
  
O'Neill rolled his eyes. "Ya think?"  
  
Sam was unable to take her eyes away from the babies who had launched themselves with gusto at the meatloaf. Within seconds they had already consumed more than their own volume in mystery meat. "They're like piranhas…" she muttered to no-one in particular as the meatloaf gradually disappeared.   
  
When they'd eaten all the meatloaf, the babies crowded together and shuffled towards the side of the cage nearest SG-1. "I guess they're still hungry," said Jonas, selecting a pear and dropping that in.  
  
It disappeared at lightning speed, as did the slice of apple pie, the pork chop, the carrot, the piece of tuna, the chocolate bar and even, to Sam's disappointment as she'd been hoping for the leftovers, the blue jello.   
  
SG-1 looked at the empty tray in disbelief. "Where the hell do they put it?" asked Jack. "They don't look any bigger."  
  
Sam looked at the pobbles carefully. "Actually, sir, I think they are a bit larger than they were. And they appear to have gone to sleep." The tiny furry creatures were huddled together at the opposite end of the cage from their mother and seemed to be emitting quiet snoring noises.  
  
"They certainly need further study," said Jonas. "What do you say we call it a night for now and give these guys the once over in the morning?"  
  
Sam glanced at her watch and yawned. She hadn't realised how late it was. O'Neill nodded. "Yeah, I'm beat. Report back here at 0700 and we'll decide what to do with Gismo and family. I'm not sure if the SGC will be able to afford their food bill."  
  
====  
  
The following morning Jonas opened the door to his office and stopped dead. He was not the tidiest person in the world but even he wouldn't have left it in this kind of mess. There were shredded papers all over the floor, his chair seat was ripped and his bookshelf was in complete disarray. His first thought was that he'd been burgled but in a high security complex, over twenty floors below ground level and with constant surveillance, that wasn't a realistic assumption. Then he noticed the cage.   
  
  
  
It was empty.  
  
  
  
There was a neat pobble-sized hole in the wire mesh and no sign of any of the pobbles. "Oh shit!" he muttered and ran to the phone.  
  
  
  
====  
  
  
  
General Hammond was not a happy camper. This was the last time he ignored his gut instinct and let Sg-1 talk him into anything. "So you're telling me that these pobbles can chew their way through metal, have insatiable appetites, breed like rabbits and they're loose on my base?"  
  
  
  
"Yes sir," said Colonel O'Neill. Hammond noted that at least he had the good grace to sound sheepish.  
  
  
  
"So what is being done to capture the... er... fugitives?"  
  
  
  
"We've issued a general alert to apprehend them and put them in a holding cell. Even if they can chew through metal, it'd take them a while to get through walls."  
  
  
  
Hammond nodded. "Have any been found yet?"  
  
  
  
"Yes sir," answered Sam. "Twenty-three have been apprehended so far. Fortunately, once they've been spotted, they're relatively easy to catch… they seem to like people."  
  
  
  
"Twenty-three?" The General was incredulous. "There were only five last night!"  
  
  
  
Sam cleared her throat. "They appear to have an extremely short gestation period, sir."  
  
Hammond pinched the bridge of his nose. This whole affair was taking on a rather surreal quality; in fact it even reminded him of an old episode of Star Trek where Kirk's ship was completely overrun with small furry things. What were they called? He frowned, trying to remember. Tribbles! Yes, that was it… tribbles. Hell, even the name sounded similar.  
  
And they were loose on his base….  
  
Pulling himself together, the General barked out, "Colonel, you and Teal'c go back to that planet and find out anything that might help us deal with this. Major, you and Jonas go and help Doctor Fraiser with any research she might be doing. I'll see you all back here in four hours." Just as he stopped speaking he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and swivelled round just in time to see a pobble shoot through a hole in a ventilation grille, across the room and under a side table. "Get it!" he yelled.  
  
Jonas dived under the table and emerged moments later clutching a pobble. It squeaked indignantly. Hammond glared at it malevolently and spat out, "Take that thing to the holding cell."  
  
He watched as Sg-1 left. It was going to be a very long four hours.  
  
====  
  
Jack O'Neill looked distinctly uncomfortable as he sat down at the briefing room table, closely followed by Teal'c. Hammond didn't take this as a good sign. He had been desperate for a good sign after ejecting four pobbles from his office in the last two hours – the grand total in the holding cell was now up to ninety-one – and he'd heard a rumour they had been spotted heading for the commissary which didn't bode well for the base food supply. He glanced round the table at Sg-1. "Well, people, let's have it. You first, Colonel."  
  
O'Neill cleared his throat. "It turns out that the pobble wasn't a 'no hard feelings' present at all, sir."  
  
The General raised his eyebrows. Why was he not surprised? "So what sort of present was it?"  
  
"More of a 'we want to royally piss you off' present."  
  
Hammond sucked in a long breath. "Are they going to help us?"  
  
"Not unless we give them some weapons."  
  
"I hope you told them we couldn't do that," said the General.  
  
"O'Neill most certainly did," said Teal'c. "Then he questioned the priestess's parentage… and her sanity."  
  
The General noticed Carter stifle a smile. He frowned. This really wasn't a laughing matter. "Do you have something you wish to share, Major?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, sir. We've found a foolproof method of detecting them, so, given time, we should be able to round them all up."  
  
"Assuming you can catch them faster than they can breed," pointed out O'Neill.  
  
Hammond didn't want to think about that. "How can you detect them?" he asked.  
  
"Their blood is lead based, sir. We just set our instruments to detect lead."  
  
The General nodded. "Is that why they're so heavy?"   
  
"I guess so, sir. It's also worth noting that they seem to hate electricity so we should be able to construct some kind of 'electric fence' to keep them in the cell."  
  
"This also means the computer system is safe, sir," added Jonas.  
  
Hammond pursed his lips. "I suppose we should be grateful for small mercies. Now go and find the rest of them."  
  
====  
  
Sam Carter walked slowly down the corridor, staring intently at the scanner in her hand. They'd split into pairs to sweep the base and she'd been assigned to search with Colonel O'Neill, who, if she was honest, wasn't really much help – he kept talking to her when she was trying to concentrate on her readings. Her thoughts were interrupted by a bleep from the scanner. "There's at least two in there, sir," she said, pointing at a closed door.  
  
O'Neill looked worried. "In my office?"  
  
"Afraid so." Sam waited while the Colonel opened the door. They stepped cautiously into the room as O'Neill switched on the light. Sure enough, there was the tell-tale hole in the ventilation grille, but where were the pobbles? Sam swivelled around, trying to spot if anything was out of place. Unfortunately, the Colonel's ideas about filing stretched to making untidy piles of papers on any horizontal surface he could find, so it was difficult to tell if the mess was intentional or not. Sam waited patiently for her commanding officer to say something. She didn't have to wait long.  
  
"The little bastards!" O'Neill pointed across the room. "They've eaten it!"  
  
Sam looked round. Eaten what? How could he even tell there was something wrong? "What's missing, sir?" she asked, tactfully.  
  
"My hockey stick!"  
  
Following his gaze, Sam spotted a six inch high stump propped against the wall. O'Neill wouldn't be playing hockey with that again. She scanned the room for the culprits. "They're under your desk, sir," she said, after studying the readout for a few moments.  
  
The Colonel crouched down, wincing as his knee let out an audible crack, and peered under the desk. "Yeah, there's two of them down here, Carter. I think they're asleep."  
  
"Resting after a big dinner, I guess, sir," Sam said, only to receive a glare from O'Neill. "You know Colonel, one day, you'll look back on this and laugh," she said, trying to be helpful.  
  
"I wouldn't bank on it," muttered the Colonel, as he emerged from under the desk holding the two pobbles. "Let's get these two somewhere safe and then we can round up more of the little beggars."  
  
====  
  
"Jonas, I have no idea how they do what they do…why they do what they do… or even how long they'll keep on doing it. We'll just have to accept they do what they do, okay?" Janet Fraiser knew she wasn't making much sense, but she was tired, frustrated and just about to lose her temper.  
  
"But Doctor… they reproduce without sexual intercourse…"  
  
Janet held her hand up to interrupt him. "We don't know that… they may just do it very fast."  
  
Jonas grinned. "That doesn't sound much fun."  
  
The Doctor couldn't help smiling. "No, I guess it doesn't. Though it may be for a pobble."  
  
"And we can't work out how they move, or how they digest more stuff than a waste disposal unit…."  
  
"No," agreed Janet wearily.  
  
"And why haven't they excreted anything?"  
  
"Yet," added the Doctor gloomily. She didn't want to think what might happen when they did.  
  
Jonas put his hands on his hips. "So?"  
  
"So?" echoed Janet.  
  
"What are we going to do about it?"  
  
Janet sat down on the nearest chair, and put her head in her hands. She sighed and looked up at Jonas. "Not a lot."  
  
Their conversation was interrupted by Teal'c entering the room holding a pobble at arms length between a huge finger and thumb. It was squeaking fit to burst. "I wish you to dissect this creature, Doctor Fraiser," the Jaffa said, narrowing his eyes malevolently.  
  
"What did it do to you, Teal'c?" asked Jonas.  
  
"It consumed my entire stock of meditation candles," he said angrily, then added, "and this week's National Enquirer."  
  
Janet looked at the pobble doubtfully. Apart from the obvious 'where the hell did it put them' question, she wondered what possible nutritional value there could be in candle wax. Realising Teal'c was waiting for an answer, she said, "I don't really see what good that would do…"  
  
"It would satisfy my need for vengeance," replied the Jaffa evenly.  
  
"Why didn't you blast it with your staff weapon?" asked Jonas.  
  
"I am not allowed to fire it on base." Teal'c seemed to be quite aggrieved about this. Janet knew revenge was a big thing for Jaffa.  
  
"Put it in that cage with the other one," the Doctor said, pointing across the room. "I'll have a look at it later."  
  
She was wondering what form this 'looking at' could take that would satisfy Teal'c's thirst for vengeance and still fit in with her ideas on ethics, when the tannoy sprang into life. "Sg-1 to the commissary. Pobbles converging on the food stores."  
  
Jonas and Teal'c ran out of the room, the Jaffa having first thrust the pobble into Janet's hands. She stroked it absent-mindedly as she watched them leave. It smelt of vanilla and incense. "Who's been a bad boy, then?" she muttered as she put it in the cage.  
  
====  
  
Five hours after his last meeting with Sg-1, General Hammond was feeling slightly happier. They were again seated around the table in the briefing room and Major Carter had reported that to the best of her knowledge, all the pobbles were incarcerated in holding cell number two. Apparently, the cell was already knee deep in small furry creatures and they were still multiplying exponentially but he was very relieved to hear that apart from eating their way through various pieces of furniture, a few ventilation grilles and any food they happened to come across, they hadn't done any permanent damage. As Carter had predicted, they'd stayed away from the computers. And also as she'd predicted, running 500 volts through the metal cell door had prevented any escapes.  
  
He'd just been told that Sg-1 had caught over thirty pobbles just before they chewed their way through the door of the main food store in the commissary. "You should have seen Carter, sir," O'Neill was saying proudly. "Once she realised the blue jello was under threat, she was like a woman possessed. She captured twenty-five of the little critters on her own."  
  
Hammond nodded. "Well done, Major." Now was probably not the time to point out that this was all Sg-1's fault. They seemed to have dealt with the problem adequately before too much damage had been done. At the moment he could afford to be magnanimous.   
  
"So, what do you want us to do with them, sir?" asked Major Carter.  
  
Good question, thought Hammond. And not one he'd considered before; he'd been so determined to catch all of the little critters, everything else had paled into insignificance. He glanced round the table. "Ideas, people?"  
  
"Launch them into space?" suggested Jack. "Then fire a missile at them."  
  
Sam frowned. "I don't think killing them is altogether necessary, sir. They haven't really done any harm." She smiled hesitantly. "This is Gismo you're talking about..."  
  
"It's not Gismo I have a problem with," said Jack testily, "It's the other six hundred members of his family."  
  
"Her, sir."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Gismo is a 'she'… she had babies, remember?" said Sam patiently.  
  
"How could I forget?" muttered Jack.  
  
"I believe they should be ritually executed," said Teal'c, stunning his colleagues into silence. "I believe a ceremonial dismemberment, then cremation would be appropriate." Hammond looked at him in alarm and made a mental note never to touch the Jaffa's candles.  
  
Desperate to change the subject, the General said, "We could send them back to P3X211."   
  
"We were forbidden to return," said Teal'c, "on pain of death." Then he added, by way of explanation, "The high priestess did not like her mother's character brought into question."  
  
The General raised his eyes to heaven. Why did this kind of thing have to happen to him? Perhaps it was a good thing everything that happened on base was classified – no-one would believe this if he told them!  
  
"Perhaps we could send them to an uninhabited planet?" suggested Jonas.  
  
Hammond nodded. "That's a possibility. Opinions?"  
  
  
  
Teal'c and Sam nodded in agreement, though O'Neill seemed to be miles away, deep in thought. The General noticed the Colonel's abstraction and he worried. He wasn't sure why he worried, but he did…  
  
====   
  
"I think they'll like P4G123," said Sam as they watched the gate shut down.  
  
Jonas nodded, "Yeah, they'll chew through their packing crates in no time and all 954 of them will be free to eat to their heart's content."  
  
Sam swivelled to face him. "You mean 955, don't you?"  
  
The Kelownan's eyes widened in horror. "No, 954. I supervised them being put into the crates… I counted them myself."  
  
"I counted 955 out of the holding cell!" protested Sam.  
  
Hammond's heart sank. "I think you'd better search the base all over again, Major, before the fugitive has chance to reproduce." But before Carter had the opportunity to reply, the General noticed O'Neill looking distinctly uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the other and frowning. His suspicions aroused, Hammond asked, "Do you know something about this, Colonel?"  
  
"Ah… er… well… um…."  
  
"Colonel!" Hammond was beginning to lose what little remained of his good temper.  
  
"I'm not really sure what came over me… I don't usually…"  
  
"Get to the point!" barked the General.  
  
O'Neill winced. "I sent it to Washington."  
  
"For analysis at the Pentagon?" asked Carter. "Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
Hammond let out a deep breath. Somehow he didn't think the pobble was anywhere near the Pentagon. "Where did you send it, Jack?" he asked quietly.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. I couldn't resist. I sent it to Senator Kinsey…. As a 'no hard feelings' present." 


End file.
